


Spooky Steel

by ScorpioSkies



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Fluffy Horror, Ghost Stories, Ghouls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorpioSkies/pseuds/ScorpioSkies
Summary: After an accident on Halloween, Squire Maximillian Maxson (or M.J. for short) is left feeling hurt and angry by his father's threats to have him fostered with another branch of the Brotherhood. In an act of rebellion, he runs away to an abandoned section of the airport, seeking adventure... only to find danger and secrets lurking in the dark.





	1. Halloween Hijinks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsolace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsolace/gifts).



> So as I'm sure you can guess, this was supposed to have been posted yesterday, but my I ended up going a *little* bit overboard with the writing until what should have been a single chapter short became multi-chaptered and went over the 6k mark! 
> 
> This was written for a little "Halloween-a-thon" I was having with sunsolace and I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> It's fluffier than my usual horror, though it does get darker in the next couple of chapters, promise! ;) 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by!

The tension in the Prydwen’s storage room was a rising crescendo as the seven squires huddled beneath their blankets, their eyes all fixed upon the last working torch. When they had first entered, avoiding detection by slipping in as the knights swapped shifts, all seven torches had been turned on.

But as each squire had told their own spooky story, they had turned them off, one by one until only Hayley’s torch remained illuminated, a cold, lonely light in the sea of darkness.

The girl glanced around the circle with a small smile, one long fingered hand slipping from beneath her blanket to close around the torch and direct the beam into the faces of her fellow squires.

“You all know what this means, don’t you?” She asked, her voice trembling with fear and excitement. “When the last story is told and the last torch goes out, an extra light might shine on where a ghost has joined the circle…”

A few of the squires exchanged nervous glances whilst others just watched her with rapt attention, waiting to hear the final story.

Hayley directed the torch beam beneath her chin, causing her warm skin to glow and the hollows of her eyes to darken. Her lips peeled back to display a mouth of pearly teeth that glinted in the light.

“Did you guys know that we’re not the _only_ squires in this room?”

Somewhere beyond the Prydwen’s steel walls, thunder growled and the sense of unease grew.

“You all felt it when we came in, right?” Hayley whispered, her eyes darting from face to face. “You all felt how _cold_ it is in here? So cold, I told you all to bring blankets?

“What if I told you that I chose this room as our meeting place because it’s haunted… by the ghost of _Squire Dennis?_ ”

The torchlight flickered and the youngest of their group, a little girl called Lacie, whimpered.

“Dennis was a talented squire,” Hayley began, “best in the class. He always wanted to be a paladin. Some say he might have even made sentinel, or _elder_ someday… but that made some of the other squires _jealous._

“They hated the way that Dennis was always getting sent out on patrols, or getting praised by Elder Maxson himself, so one day they thought they would play a little _trick_ on poor Squire Dennis.

“They dared him to sneak inside _this very storeroom_ and steal some Nuka-Cola Quantum for them.”

The thunder snarled again and Hayley waited for the last echoes to fade before speaking, her voice low and quiet.

“It was on a night awfully like _this one_ that Dennis made his fateful trip to the storeroom. A bad storm was raging outside and he thought that the thunder might cover the sounds of his crimes.

“He entered this storeroom while the other squires distracted the knight on duty. He left the door slightly ajar so he could get back out again, but once he was inside, one of the other squires SLAMMED the door shut behind him!”

She pounded her free fist against the floor, startling the others into gasps and nervous laughter.

“Well, Dennis had made it halfway through the room when the door closed and he panicked. He didn’t like small, dark spaces you see. His parents said so at his _funeral._

“As he ran back to the door, he tripped and fell into one of the shelves… as a matter of fact, M.J.,” she added, turning her dark eyes upon the serious squire sat on her left. “It was _those_ very shelves right behind you and Alistair there…”

M.J. frowned, though he couldn’t quite resist glancing over his shoulder and exchanging a nervous look with Alistair, who was sat beside him.

“Are those tins of… _Pork ‘N’ Beans_ , by any chance?” Hayley enquired sweetly, fighting to restrain a mischievous grin as the other squires tried to subtly inch themselves away from the shelves.

M.J. was the only one to pause and squint through the heavy gloom behind him. After a moments hesitation, he reached out and plucked a tin from the shelf above him, setting it down in the beam of torchlight.    

Hayley gasped theatrically.

“It was tins _exactly like these tins_ that fell on top of poor Squire Dennis! They hit him on the head and knocked him to the ground, just on the other side of those shelves! Then the _shelves_ toppled over AND CRUSHED HIM!”

She grabbed the tin and slammed it hard against the floor, just as thunder echoed, even louder than before.

“Ever since that day,” Hayley began quietly, “the knights on duty outside the door claim to hear a small voice, crying out for help, and small nails scratching the door from the inside, but whenever they look… there’s nobody in here.

“Sometimes, the mess officers find all the Pork ‘N’ Beans lying across the floor, and small handprints of sauce leading towards the door, like some poor, unfortunate child had tried to crawl away…”

The room turned pitch black as Hayley extinguished her torch… save for a soft blue glow from somewhere beyond the shelves.

The squires gasped and Lacie squealed in fright, squeezing her eyes shut as she wrapped her blanket around her head.

“ _Shhh!_ ” Moments later, a torch beam flickered to life as M.J. rose to his feet, scowling slightly. “That’s just the glow of some Quantums. It’s nothing to be scared about.”

Hayley’s torch beam flared to life beneath her chin, causing some of the others to gasp and recoil, though M.J. simply arched one of his eyebrows and fixed her in an unimpressed stare.

“Quantums like _Squire Dennis_ was sent to fetch on that fateful day!”

“Cut it out, Hayley.” M.J. sighed. “We all know you made that story up.”

“Oh, you _do_ , do you?” Hayley grinned, rising as she held her blanket about her shoulders like a cloak. “Then you won’t have any problem heading over there and completing Squire Dennis’ failed mission, _will_ you M.J.? Maybe then his spirit can finally… _rest in peace!_ ”

“I don’t think you should do it, M.J.!” Jack whispered from the other side of the circle. “What if you trip and end up like Dennis?!”

“Dennis isn’t _real_!” M.J. sighed again, rolling his eyes.

“Mm-hm. Tell yourself that, M.J., but you’ll never really know unless you complete his mission and bring us _all_ back a Quantum!” Hayley smirked, meeting his azure gaze with her deep brown. “Unless you’re a _rad-chicken?_ Then I suppose you can just sneak off back to bed, maybe ask your dad whether or not Squire Dennis was real when you’re nice and safe in your quarters…”

M.J.’s nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m _not_ a rad-chicken!”

“Then prove it!” Hayley pressed. “I bet if we were at Sanctuary, _Duncan_ would have done it already!”

M.J. visibly bristled.

“ _Fine._ ” He snapped, stalking away with only the lonely beam of his torch accompanying him.

He rounded the first set of shelves quickly, his footsteps thumping across the floor as he ignored the cries of protest rising from the other squires.

_Stupid Hayley and her stupid ideas…_ he thought angrily, forcing himself to press onward, towards the distant glow of the Quantums. _Why did I even agree to turn up for this stupid Halloween idea? No one even celebrates it anymore!_

The whispers of his fellow squires seemed to grow distant as he headed towards the end of the row, before turning and making his way along another couple of aisles without incident. The torchlight glinted off tin cans and bottles stacked in orderly rows along the shelves and he suddenly noted just how _dark_ the spaces between them were.

_What if I see a face looking back at me? Or a hand like in Jack’s story?_

He swallowed, his stride faltering to a complete stop.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so brave anymore.

Part of him wanted to turn right around and head back the way he came…

_…But what if I turn around and see Squire Dennis? Or Elder Lyons’ ghost?_

Light footsteps pattered down the next aisle and he froze, his eyes growing wide with fear. He licked his lips, the torchlight wavering slightly as his hands began to shake.

_It’s just Hayley playing one of her stupid games… It’s not a ghost… Ghosts don’t exist…_

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, counting to ten as his father had advised him to do when scared or angry.

_I am a Maxson. My soul is forged in steel and steel isn’t afraid of_ anything. _Dad wouldn’t be scared even if there_ was _a stupid ghost._

Releasing a shuddering breath, he opened his eyes and forced himself to walk forwards, though he only managed small, tentative steps.

At the end of the aisle he could see the soft glow of the Quantum bottles, their pale blue light illuminating the path to victory.

_Just a little further, then I can go back and prove I’m not a rad-chicken!_

Eager to get the ‘mission’ over and done with, M.J. squared his shoulders and quickened his pace, fixedly staring at the Quantum crate so he wouldn’t see anything lurking behind the shelves around him.

As soon as they were within reach, M.J. grasped the edge of one of the crates with his free hand and pulled it out, filling the aisle with a pale blue radiance. 

“…How do I even move seven bottles?” He muttered to himself, frowning down at his torch before turning it off, deciding that the bottles would do a good enough job illuminating the way back.

He managed to gather five bottles in his arms and grasped a sixth in one of his hands. They were cold, the chill seeping through his pyjamas. As he kicked the crate back onto the shelf, the remaining bottles clinked noisily and he couldn’t help but notice how much emptier the crate was.

_I hope we don’t get in trouble for this…_

Sighing, he turned and began retracing his steps, the glow of the Quantum revealing more of his surroundings than his little torch had.

He had almost made it to the end of the aisle when a strange noise disturbed the quiet.

He froze, the hairs rising along the nape of his neck as the sound drew closer.

A metallic rolling sound…

A small, cylindrical shape rolled into sight at the end of the aisle, and M.J.’s eyes widened as the can of Pork ‘N’ Beans rolled along, continuing until it was out of sight.

“Th-that’s _not_ funny, guys!” He called, coming to an abrupt halt. “Cut it out!”

No one replied.

Somewhere out of sight, the lone can bumped against something and fell silent.

The store room was eerily quiet and still around him.

“Guys! This isn’t funny!” He called again, his voice quavering slightly. “Hayley? Alistair?”

_Have they bailed on me?_

M.J. nervously licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt as dry as the wasteland and sweat was cooling on his already chilled skin.

His breathing loud in his ears, M.J. slowly advanced towards the end of the aisle, the bottles chiming softly in his arms as he began to tremble.

_There’s nothing there._ He tried to convince himself, sounding uncertain even in his own head. _There’s no such thing as a ghost squire, no such thing as a ghostly hand and even if there_ was _a ghostly Elder, he’d be nice because dad always said that –_

A billowing shadow dashed in front of him.

The bottles shattered at his feet as M.J. released a blood-curdling scream, tripping over his own two feet as he scrambled backwards, one hand flying out towards the shelves and upsetting a pallet of tatos.

Moments later the storeroom door crashed open and the room was flooded with light.

M.J., his pyjamas soaked in Quantum and splattered with crushed tatos, stared at where Hayley was watching him with a sheepish grin from around the corner of the shelves, her blanket pulled over her head like a cloak.

“ _What_ are you all _doing_ in here?!” A male voice demanded somewhere across the room and Lacie began to wail.

“Sorry…” Hayley whispered, carefully stepping over the glowing puddles to help M.J. to his feet.

“We will be…” M.J. groaned, watching as the furious knight marched around the corner and took in the mess they had made.


	2. Into the Dark

“Is something wrong, Squire Maxson?” Knight-Sergeant Gavil demanded, his shadow falling across the snivelling squire who hastily sat upright, drying his eyes on the sleeve of his coat. “Did you suffer a _papercut,_ perhaps?”

“No, sir. Just got dust in my eyes, sir.” M.J. lied, blinking rapidly as he grabbed his pencil and pulled a clipboard towards him.

“Then you’d better carry on with marking those inventories, or the Elder will be receiving an unsatisfactory report.” Gavil warned, his boots echoing on the concrete as he turned away. “If you keep working at your current pace, you won’t meet the deadline.”

_And dad would_ love _that._ M.J. thought bitterly, dragging a small crate of Instamash across the desk. _It’d just give him another reason to send me away for_ ‘fostering’.

As he sorted the boxes into lines of ten, he replayed the whole ugly argument out in his head.

The way he had accused his father of treating him unfairly, citing the fact none of the _other_ squires were being sent to logistics.

The way his father had finally admitted that he _did_ treat him differently because he expected more from him ‘as a Maxson.’

Then that awful, earth-shattering moment that his father had said the words he had been terrified of hearing for the whole ten years of his life.

_“Perhaps it is time we consider fostering you to another branch of the Brotherhood.”_

The lead of M.J.’s pencil snapped against the paper and he realised that his vision was blurring with tears again.

_I’m just a problem for him. I’m not his son, I’m just his name, no matter what he says!_

Biting his lip, M.J. piled the boxes of Instamash back inside the crate and rose, picking it up and carrying it across the depot.

The logistics division was quiet, only one knight and three scribes visible wandering the shelves whilst Gavil manned his terminal at the front, leaving it only to bark orders at his men or swing by to check on him every half hour or so.

As M.J. arrived at the correct shelves and began to push the Instamash back where it belonged, he caught sight of the wall on the far side of the shelves… and the door set in it.

Glancing around, he realised that neither the knight nor the scribes were in sight and Gavil certainly wouldn’t be able to see him from his desk…

_It’s not like I can get into any more trouble, is it?_ He thought bitterly. _What’s the worst they can do? Send me away like they were already planning?_

Hurt and anger boiling in his chest, he began making his way around the shelves, heading straight for the door. Without checking if he was being watched, he pushed the handle down and found it unlocked.

He eased the door slightly ajar and slipped through, pulling it closed behind him.

He had half expected an alarm to sound, or a knight to be lying in wait on the other side.

Instead, he was greeted by a dark, draughty corridor. Unlike the rest of the airport, there were no lights, and it held an air of neglect. A pair of broken vending machines hugged the wall to his right whilst empty oil drums, broken pallets and oversized tyres crowded the rest of the space. 

He released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and smiled to himself, relieved that a knight or scribe hadn’t been waiting on the other side.

Most of the time he was confined aboard the Prydwen, always being watched by _somebody,_ and all of his trips to the airport had been either at the heels of his father or the sentinel.

He could hardly believe that his father hadn’t assigned him a personal babysitter while he was down here.

_So much for him treating me like an ordinary squire._ M.J. thought bitterly, his nails biting into his palms as he began to walk along the corridor. _The other squires get given duties at the airport all the time! Meanwhile, I have to_ beg _to be let down here, or punished!_

He blinked as an unpleasant thought occurred to him.

_What if he’s sent me down here because he’s really had enough of me? Maybe he can’t even stand to have me aboard the Prydwen anymore?_

He heard voices approaching from behind the door and quickly glanced around, seeking a hiding place when he spied another door beside the vending machines. Determined not to get caught so early on, he hurried towards it and tried the handle, relieved to find that this door was also unlocked.

He hastily pulled it open and slipped outside, his heart pounding in his chest as he closed it behind him.

The door led him outside, at the base of the old communications tower. Thorny bushes and spindly grass rose from the grey sand underfoot, crowding around the trunks of stunted trees. He could see the black, glassy waters of the ocean lapping softly against the shore.

Overhead, the steel bulk of the Prydwen eclipsed the lowering sky, anchored to the tower by steel cables.

M.J. scowled, turning his gaze back towards the sea as he pushed his way through the scrub, shielding his arms from the thorns using the thick sleeves of his coat.

_Even if he_ could _see me from up there, he’d be too busy working to notice… or care._

He stopped just shy of entering the water, watching as the small waves lapped around the toes of his boots. A cool wind blew, spraying him with a light drizzle as it snatched the cap from his head, blowing it into the branches of a small tree.

Cursing softly under his breath, he turned to pursue it, forcing his way through thorny branches towards the base of the tree. He had almost reached it when he noticed an overgrown path, leading through the shrubbery and around the base of the tower, further away from the main airport.

He paused, glancing between the narrow track and his hat, still caught in the branches of the tree. He shrugged, turning to follow the path, deciding he could pick the hat up on his way back.

It was as he rounded the base of the tower that he spied the gleaming carcass of a pre-war aircraft. The tail end was missing and it jutted out into the sea, steel beams exposed like the ribcage of some long dead leviathan.

M.J.’s eyes grew wide, drinking in the sight.

He had never had a close look at a pre-war aircraft before. The ‘plane graveyard’ was deemed unsafe, meaning that it was strictly off-limits to the squires. _Especially_ him, as he was never away from the Prydwen unescorted… _until now._

Grinning to himself, M.J. broke into a sprint, determined to enjoy as much of his freedom as possible, knowing that he would likely end up confined to the family quarters after this adventure.

He entered the wreck through a gap in the plating, his grin growing ever wider as he took in the derelict interior. It had long ago been stripped of anything useful, yet he was awed nevertheless, studying the way motes glittered in the beams of watery sunlight pouring through the gaps.

“I wonder if this is where they kept the gas tanks…” he mused, summoning the little knowledge he had on the workings of the Prydwen for reference. He couldn’t imagine how else a craft so large could fly.

He walked towards a wall in the centre of the space and was surprised to discover a staircase. The steps groaned beneath his feet, the metal shuddering with every step he took, but M.J. paid them little heed, emerging into an empty cockpit.

Grey sunlight streamed through the broken windows, glinting dully on teeth of ancient glass.

With nothing else to look at, M.J. moved towards the windows and gripped the frame in his gloved hands, standing on his tip-toes to peer outside.

It was quiet there, save for the gentle lapping of the sea and the tinny drumbeat of the rain that was beginning to fall.

As he scanned the surrounding area, his eyes fell upon a lone doorway leading into a squat concrete building.

With nothing else of interest in the cockpit, he descended the stairs again and explored the remainder of the wreck, eventually exiting on the opposite side. The rain had grown a little heavier and he found himself missing his hat, though he quickly decided against returning for it.

_Not before I check out that door, anyway._

Keen to continue his adventure and painfully aware that it might be the last one he would have in a long time, M.J. advanced towards the door and tried the handle. To his delight, the door gave with surprising ease and permitted him entry.

He hesitated on the doorstep.

Ahead of him lay a concrete stairwell, illuminated by a lone, flickering lightbulb. The stairs turned to the left, leading the way down into a subterranean level. The air was stale, thick with dust motes that danced lazily in the pale light.

The wind moaned as it blew past him, pelting him with raindrops as it whistled down the stairwell, heralding his arrival.

_Here comes Maximillian Maxson! Son of the High Elder, Arthur Maxson!_

He shivered, almost pushing the door closed when he heard a voice carried faintly on the breeze.

_“…IRE! SQUIRE MAXSON! WHERE ARE YOU?”_

“Uh-oh.” Without allowing himself time to think, M.J. slipped inside, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

For a few moments he hesitated on the top step, listening.

Other than the low whistle of the wind and the rain pattering outside, everything was eerily quiet and still.

_Like a grave…_

He shivered beneath his coat, images of ghostly squires and disembodied hands crowding his thoughts, along with Hayley’s gleeful smile.

_“Are you a rad-chicken, M.J.?”_ she grinned, tilting her head to the side. _“Do you want to go and hide under your dad’s coat?”_

M.J. balled his hands into fists and raised his chin, squaring his shoulders as he began to descend the stairs.

_I’ll show her and Duncan how brave I can be!_ He told himself firmly, turning the corner and following another dimly lit flight of stairs further underground. _It’s not my fault mom and dad won’t let me leave the Prydwen for adventures! And whenever_ they _go out, they’ve always got an adult with them anyway! Or each other! I’m here on my own!_

He arrived in a small hallway, littered with pre-war clutter and debris that had fallen from the ceiling.

_That… does not look good._ He thought to himself, sparing a nervous glance at the shadows that coalesced above him before slowly pressing on, passing through an open doorway into a wider space.

A pair of ancient pre-war elevators were set parallel to the doorway, illuminated by flickering pools of garish white light. As M.J. ventured forwards, he regarded a pair of strange looking stairways with metal steps that led into darkness.

Slowly, he made his way into the pools of light, rubbing his arms through his coat. He noted the way that his breath was forming small white clouds and suppressed a shudder.

_There’s no such things as ghosts. It’s just cold down here. That’s all._

He turned slowly on the spot, drinking in his surroundings and the heavy, oppressive silence that lingered.

Ahead of him stretched a wide, dark hallway. A dim light illuminated a single doorway set into one of the walls, as well as the collapsed ceiling that blocked off the rest of the corridor.

His eyes flitted back the way he had come, his mind weighing up his options.

_Should I carry on?_ He wondered, _or should I head back?_

_What’s the point in returning to the airport if they’re just going to send you away?_ He winced as the thought flashed across his mind, unbidden. _They don’t care about you. Only your name._  

Sniffing slightly, he began to walk forwards again, his boots dragging across the floor. He noted the way that his feet left impressions in the dust and idly wondered whether he was perhaps the first person since the war to wander those halls.

His foot kicked something small and he flinched, freezing in place as it skittered away.

In a casual setting, he might not have even _heard_ the sound, but down here it seemed as loud as a thunderclap.

For a few long moments he held his breath, his body tense as he listened for the slightest reaction, the faintest disturbance in the roaring quiet…

But there was nothing.

He released a shaky breath, wiping his sleeve across his sweating brow.

_What am I thinking? I’m probably the first person to come down here since the war. There’s nothing but dust down here._

Feeling a little braver, he continued forwards, thinking just how foolish it was that he had been so afraid last night on the Prydwen, with his friends in the same room and adults in shouting distance.

_If I called down here, would anybody hear me?_ He wondered, pausing in the doorway. _Would they even think to look in here?_

Ahead of him the floor had partially fallen away, leaving half an unstable balcony with a rickety staircase leading to the dark floor below.

“That…doesn’t look safe.” He flinched at the sound of his voice, lowering it to a whisper.

Somehow, even though he _knew_ that he was alone, it felt blasphemous to break the silence.

_Maybe I’ll just sit on the stairs for a while, or hang out in that old aircraft…_

He thought, turning to walk back the way he came.

He stepped into the hall and froze.

There, standing beneath the glare of the lights at the elevator, was a tall, hunched-back figure.

Its back was turned towards him, the spine protruding grotesquely from the mottled, green-tinted skin. He could see the head twitching slightly as it swayed on the spot, naked save for the few shreds of faded material that had yet to fall away or disintegrate from its body.

M.J.’s mouth went dry.

He could hear its dry, rattling breaths. The way it gargled and growled to itself. The slap of its bare feet as it began to turn around…

He had enough presence of mind to retreat through the doorway, his eyes bulging as he heard it shuffle down the corridor, heading _towards_ him.

Stifling the scream in his throat, M.J. turned and raced down the stairs, praying that the creature wouldn’t hear him.

_A ghoul!_ That _was a feral ghoul!_

The corridor ahead of him was illuminated by poorly spaced lights and the sparks of cut wires, dangling from the ceiling like snakes. Shadowy mountains of rubble and trash impeded his way as he ran, stumbling through the gloom.

His footsteps were too loud in the darkness and somewhere behind him, the ghoul _hissed_.

Bare feet slapped against the ground, their gait uneven but fast. Faster than M.J. would have believed.

His eyes began to burn with frightened tears as he dodged around another pile of rubble, following a darker track of flooring set between two handrails.

He heard the rubble behind him shift, stones skittering to the floor and a guttural howl echoed along the corridor.

The ghouls’ footsteps became louder, _faster_ and as M.J. swerved sharply around a corner he saw it lunge from the corner of his eye, felt the skeletal fingers claw at his coat…

The ghoul fell behind him with a frustrated wail and M.J. continued his desperate sprint.

Ahead of him the corridor was flooded, dark, murky water reflecting a pair of flickering lights.

Painfully aware of the ghoul rising up behind him, eager to continue the hunt, he charged into the water without a second thought.

It was icy cold and rose to his knees, slowing him down. Every desperate movement sent waves across the once placid surface and he kept stumbling over rubble he couldn’t see.

The water splash behind him and a terrified sob escaped his throat.

_It’s going to get me!_ He thought, tears blurring his vision. _Dad! Mom! Help me!_

Something grabbed his ankle beneath the water.

M.J. shrieked, wrenching his leg free of the bruising grip.

The water was rippling all around him, pale, bloated figures rising up and breaching the surface.

To M.J.’s horror, the doorway at the end of the hall was blocked by rubble and wires from where the roof had caved in. Part of the floor above had fallen down, creating a steep slope to the next level.

In desperation, M.J. ducked beneath a rusting handrail and raced towards the it, his breaths coming in desperate sobs.

The ghouls were a snarling, hissing mob as they pursued him. Some threw themselves against the railings, clawing the air inches away from him whilst others surged around, charging directly towards him.

Mere seconds before the ghouls caught him, M.J. grasped a foothold and propelled himself upwards, managing to scramble into the darkened room above.

Without sparing a glance at his pursuers, M.J. stumbled to where light flickered through an open doorway, eager to distance himself from the horde below. He stumbled up another flight of stairs, leaving a trail of wet footprints and droplets on the dusty concrete.

He felt light headed, his legs and lungs burning from his exertions, but he didn’t dare stop to catch his breath, not when the ferals could outrun him so easily.

He lurched unsteadily through a narrow hallway at the top of the stairs, emerging through a doorway into a wide open space. Harsh white lights shone directly over his head, illuminating the doorway he had just exited, as well as two portals of fathomless dark where elevators used to be on the opposite side.

Four concrete bollards stood to his right, drawing a line between the lights he was stood under and the veil of shadows beyond.

Snarls echoed up the corridor behind him and M.J. swallowed a wail of despair as he forced himself to run, surging past the bollards and into the darkness.

He could just make out the hulking shadows of pre-war vehicles scattered about and he did his best to avoid colliding with them, though he still managed to jar his shoulder painfully against a truck as he passed.

He didn’t know how far he ran, only that he followed a winding path further into the bowels of the earth. He could still hear the primitive cries of the ferals behind him, but he soon became all too aware that there were ferals ahead of him, too.

An eerie, pulsing green light flooded the tunnel ahead of him and he drew instinctively, seeking refuge behind a pair of vehicles that had been parked in a corner centuries before.

He clapped his sweating palms over his mouth as he huddled on the ground, watching in fascinated horror as the light drew closer, accompanied by the slap of bare feet on concrete and the soft growls of a ghoul.

He dimly recalled one of his lessons aboard the Prydwen, when they had learned about ‘glowing ones’, ghouls that emitted a radioactive light that was capable of healing their own kind.

_Please don’t find me… Please don’t find me…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, silently chanting his mantra as he listened to the growls increase in volume, the footsteps pad ever closer…

Gradually, the light on the backs of his eyelids began to dim as the ghoul moved away, stalking through the car park.

M.J.’s shoulders trembled with silent sobs as he hugged his knees to his chest, pressing his forehead against them.

He thought of his parents and bitterly wished he were with them.


	3. Guardian

M.J. jolted awake with a gasp, his eyes snapping open to the thick gloom of the car park. He was shivering, his damp clothes clinging to his skin and muscles aching from having spent so long huddled on the concrete.

He didn’t know how long he had been there, but it had been long enough to succumb to his exhaustion.

 _Isn’t anyone looking for me?_ He wondered, drawing his knees up to his chest. _Does anyone even know about this place?_

Sniffing miserably, he raised a gloved hand and wiped at his eyes, swollen and irritated from crying.

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

He tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

_Footsteps?_

He stared blankly ahead, hardly daring to believe his ears.

Those were _definitely_ footsteps. Not the uneven, barefooted gait of a feral, but the smooth, booted stride of a human, and they were drawing _closer_.

Warily, M.J. lowered himself to the floor, peering beneath the vehicles beside him.

As he watched, a pale beam of torchlight shone upon the concrete, followed by a pair of polished boots he recognised as Brotherhood issue.

_Dad must’ve sent someone to rescue me!_

He scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he raced around the cars.

The light fell upon him and he winced, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glare.

“Squire Maxson?” asked a deep, masculine voice. “Everybody’s looking for you.”

The light dropped to the floor and M.J. lowered his arm, blinking away the colourful afterimages that clouded his vision.

Before him stood a Brotherhood knight, donning stained olive-green fatigues over a black turtle-neck jumper. His dark hair was styled like the Elder’s, the same way M.J. tried to style his, and the shadow of stubble framed his strong jaw.

“C-can you get me out of here, sir?” M.J. croaked, forcing himself to straighten his back and square his shoulders.

“That’s why I’m here, Squire.” The Knight replied with a nod. “I’m going to escort you to safety.”

“Did you kill all the ferals?” he asked, nervously glancing into the surrounding darkness.

The Knight gave a small smile and shook his head.

“I’m afraid not, Squire. But if you listen to me and follow my orders, the ghouls won’t be a problem. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” M.J. nodded, though he couldn’t help but feel a fresh wave of fear knowing that the ferals wouldn’t be far away.

“You’ll be fine, Squire,” the Knight promised. “I won’t let anything happen to you. It’ll just be like a field exercise.”

As he spoke the Knight turned away, walking down a sloping road that led deeper underground. M.J. hurried to keep up, the light patter of his boots echoing in the oppressive silence.

“Did anyone come with you, sir?” He asked quietly, falling into step beside him. “Is my Dad or Mom coming?”

The Knight’s lips quirked as he glanced down at the boy, the torchlight reflecting in his eyes.

“I’m here on my own,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s just me and the ferals down here with you. A friend of mine used to come down here sometimes, but… he doesn’t come anymore.”

“But why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming down here? Or bring some backup?” M.J. frowned, watching as the Knight turned his eyes forwards, his lips pulling into a thin line.

“That’s enough talking, Squire. I need you to keep quiet before you attract more ferals.”

M.J.’s face blanched and he obeyed, drawing a little closer to his guardian as they continued forwards. Up ahead light poured through an open doorway, spilling onto the dusty concrete in front of a pair of empty elevator shafts.

The melancholy chime of a bell echoed from beyond and M.J. hesitated, clutching his arms and staring at the doorway apprehensively.

The Knight slowed to a halt a few paces ahead, peering over his shoulder at him.

“Is something wrong, Squire?”

“Just… did you hear that noise?”

M.J.’s eyes grew even wider as a man’s voice echoed, carrying through the tunnels and carpark though the words were too faint to make out.

“Did you hear that?!” He hissed, his eyes darting between the Knight and the doorway. “There was a voice!”

The Knight chuckled softly, turning to face him with a faint smile.

“You know how Lancer-Captain Kells uses the tannoy aboard the Prydwen to make announcements?” He asked, watching as the Squire nodded in response. “What you’re hearing now is a pre-war recording. It’s been playing since the bombs fell...”

M.J. swallowed as the Knight continued forwards before following him towards the lit doorway.

The Knight signalled for him to halt just shy of entering the light, switching off his torch.

M.J. could see a pair of barriers with plastic wings up ahead, and a second doorway beyond those. A pair of lightbulbs illuminated the small space, though the doorway beyond was dark and foreboding.

The bell chimed again, the haunting sound raising the hairs on the nape of his neck.

 _“Passengers are reminded to keep their luggage with them at all times.”_ The disembodied voice announced cheerfully.

M.J. shivered.

“Stay here, Squire.” The Knight said quietly, glancing down at him. “I’m going to scout ahead for any hostiles.”

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” M.J. protested, reaching for the Knight’s arm, though he smoothly stepped out of reach. “Ferals are out here! What if they come after me?”

The Knight sighed, slowly lowering himself so that he was level with the Squire’s eyes.

“I need you to be brave,” he began, his voice calm and even. “I promise Squire, I won’t be gone for long. You have my word.”

“But what if ferals come this way?” M.J. whispered urgently, glancing into the darkness behind them.

“You run and hide,” the Knight replied simply. “If that happens, I’ll come and find you again, got it?”

M.J. clenched his hands into fists, swallowing back tears as he nodded.

The Knight smiled again as he rose to his feet, raising his fist in salute.

“You do yourself and the Brotherhood credit, Squire. Your parents will be proud.”

With a final nod, the Knight turned and walked through the doorway, just as the lights cut out.

M.J. gasped, cold fear flooding his veins like ice.

“Sir?” He choked, blindly groping through the darkness ahead of him.

The bell chimed again.

 _“Remember to report any suspicious activity to the nearest steward!”_ The tannoy called through the darkness.

 _“Sir?”_ M.J.’s voice trembled as he continued forwards, his hands finding only thin air, his boots shuffling across the floor. 

_“Sir?”_ His voice echoed strangely and he frowned, making to take another step…

“ _Squire! Hold!”_

He froze as torchlight shone from behind him, casting his shadow against the opposite wall of the elevator shaft.

He gasped, stumbling backwards, away from the threshold he had almost crossed.

He turned, staring at the Knight who was standing a few feet behind him, his features faintly illuminated by the torchlight. His expression was unreadable, but the hollows of his eyes seemed darker.

“We need to keep moving,” he said quietly, turning back towards the doorway. “Remember Squire. Follow my orders to the letter, be brave and keep quiet.”

M.J.’s heart was still pounding in his chest, and his throat felt too tight to speak. He nodded mutely in answer, his breath clouding in the torchlight as cold sweat beaded his skin.

He walked almost nose-to-back behind the Knight, alert for the slightest hint of danger, when the plastic barrier hit him.

He almost jumped out of his skin.

He paused for a few moments, his shoulders heaving as he glanced between the plastic wing and the Knight who had continued towards the second doorway. As he passed through into the gloom beyond, M.J. hurried to follow, pushing the plastic aside.

He entered an old metro tunnel, dark save for a flickering circle of light on the platform. The tracks below were flooded, the filthy water casting refractions of light upon the walls. Concrete columns loomed around him, a carpet of rubble and trash littering the ground beneath his feet.

All was silent, save for an incessant dripping as water leaked from the tunnel roof, pattering into the pool below.

The Knight was standing in another doorway up ahead, his silhouette black against the dirty yellow light shining behind him.

As M.J. stumbled across the platform to reach him, his foot caught on a small chunk of concrete and sent it clattering away. He froze, holding his breath as it disappeared into the water with a loud _plonk!_

The light reflections rippled on the wall and somewhere up the tunnel, he heard a raspy growl.

“To me Squire! _Quickly!_ ” The Knight whispered, urgently beckoning as he retreated into the room behind him.

M.J. hurried to obey, taking greater care not to kick or trip over anything else.

A lone bulb illuminated the remains of a storage room, the floor slick with oil. Large, circular openings on the right hand wall led onto the water logged tracks, and the Knight was sheltering between them, silently gesturing for the boy to join him.

The moment M.J. reached his side, stones skittered in the tunnel beyond.

Leathery feet slapped against concrete as a ghoul drew near, followed by splashes as it waded into the water.

M.J.’s hands shook as he covered his mouth, his eyes fixed upon the nearest opening.

_What if it comes in here?_

The splashes grew louder as the ghoul advanced and he squeezed his eyes shut. Desperate to quell the rising terror within him, he began to count, falling back on his father’s advice.

_Twenty… Nineteen… Eighteen…_

He tried to focus on the numbers, but his mind envisioned skeletal fingers curling around the wall as the ghoul rose from the water.

_Seventeen… Sixteen… Fifteen…_

He could hear it gurgling, the awful rasp of its breath…

_Fourteen… Thirteen…Twelve…_

A fetid stench assailed his nostrils and hit the back of his throat, causing him to gag.

The ghoul fell silent.

_It heard me._

M.J.’s eyes flew open as the ghoul began to growl. He locked eyes with the Knight, his vision blurring with tears.

_I don’t want to die…_

The Knight’s expression was grim, the hollows of his eyes dark pits in his gaunt face.

“When the ghoul leaves, follow the tracks and wait for me in the train carriage. Understood?” The Knight murmured, leaning down towards him.

The stench grew stronger and water sloshed in the tunnel as the ghoul waded closer, somewhere just beyond the wall...

The lightbulb went out.

M.J. felt a cold rush of air and suddenly footsteps were echoing through the doorway, out onto the platform. He glimpsed the Knight dart through the circle of light, disappearing into the darkness beyond just as the ghoul shrieked.

He heard it splashing through the tunnel, the sounds growing fainter as it passed the storeroom, heading for the platform. Moments later he spied it through the doorway, lurching through the light in pursuit of the soldier.

He expected to hear laser fire, or some kind of struggle, but the sounds of the ghoul became distant, until all he could hear was the dripping of water.

He jumped when the tannoy bell chimed, followed by an announcement.

_“Please do not tamper with the protectron stewards! Thank you!”_

There was a buzzing sound above his head and he glanced up, blinking as the bulb flickered back to life. For a few moments he remained where he was, shivering from cold and fear. Then he slowly lowered his hands and took in a deep breath, forcing himself to step away from the wall as he recalled the Knight’s instructions to carry on.

He moved to the first of the openings, warily peering into the tunnel beyond.

It was almost too dark to see anything. He could barely make out the murky water lapping at the steps leading onto the tracks, let alone anything else.

Chewing his lip, he glanced around the storeroom, seeking anything that might light the way, but found nothing of use. 

Hunching his shoulders, he took a deep breath and stepped into the water. It rose above his knees, splashing with every step despite his best efforts to move silently. He could feel the train tracks and debris beneath his boots and silently prayed no ghouls were lying dormant underwater, waiting to drag him to a watery grave.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he perceived a large, serpentine shape dominating half the tunnel.

_Is that a train?_

The tracks began to slope upwards, the water gradually receding until he was walking on dry ground. As he rounded the nose of the train wreck, he caught sight of the tunnel ahead. It resembled a cavernous throat, illuminated by the ruby flashes of emergency lights set along the walls.   

The bell chimed again, causing him to start violently.

_“Due to unforeseen circumstances, some trains may be delayed. We thank you for your patience.”_

He closed his eyes, exhaling heavily as he tried to slow his frantic heartbeat.

 _I have to stay calm…_ _Keep a level head…_

“Squire?”

He gasped, whipping around to find the Knight looming over him, little more than a dark silhouette in the gloom.

M.J. gaped at him silently, wondering how he had caught up without so much as a splash.

“Follow me,” the Knight ordered, stepping around him to continue along the tracks. “There isn’t much further to go.”

_How is he walking so confidently through the dark? Why isn’t he using his torch?_

The Knight paused a little ways ahead, turning to glance at him.

“Come along Squire. We don’t have all day.”

“…Yes, sir.” M.J. whispered, his feet dragging on the concrete.

The Knight led him further down the tunnel, pausing when he reached a place where the train carriages had separated. To M.J.’s eyes, it gave the wreck the appearance of a broken spine. The Knight moved towards the empty doorway of the second carriage, peering inside before turning back to him.

“You should be safe enough in here, so long as you remain quiet and still.”

“You’re leaving me again?” M.J. choked, staring at him aghast.

“I’ll return,” the Knight replied, gesturing for him to climb inside. “There are more ferals ahead and I need to lead them away, the same as before.”

“But what if they get you?” M.J. protested, keeping his feet firmly planted. “What if you _don’t_ come back?”

The Knight chuckled, the sound bitter and mirthless.

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, Squire.”

“But -” 

“Never mind,” the Knight interrupted. “Just climb inside and wait for me.”

M.J. reluctantly obeyed, pulling himself inside. Entering the carriage was like stepping into oblivion. He could barely see his hands in front of his face, only able to perceive lighter patches of darkness that marked the windows and doors.

The floor was slanted, littered with rubbish and shards of glass that crunched beneath his feet. When he was a little ways inside, he stopped to wait for the Knight’s return. He hadn’t seen the soldier move past the windows, nor cross the doorway ahead him, but when he glanced behind him, the man was no longer there.

Releasing a shuddering breath, he crouched down and resolved to wait.

He looked ahead, peering through the empty doorway on the far side of the carriage. He could see the edge of another platform, bathed in a garish white light… and a hunched figure sat on the tracks beneath it, rocking on the balls of its feet.

For a few long moments, all he could do was stare at the hunched back of the abomination, taking in the sickly green pallor of its skin, the protruding spine and filthy rags that might have once been a dress…

Something small flew through the air by the ghoul, landing on the concrete with a dull clatter.

At once the abomination lurched to its feet with a guttural snarl, its head turning this was and that as it sought the source of the disturbance.

Another projectile flew, this time catching the ghoul on the shoulder. It released a deafening shriek, and M.J’s eyes widened with horror as other feral ghouls raised  their voices in answer, snarling and howling in response.

He could only watch as eight more ghouls lurched into sight, charging from the platform and onto the tracks without a care for the drop. He could hear them sniffing the air through the melted cavities of their noses, gargling and gibbering as they began to prowl the tunnel.

One came right up to the far door, its eyes glowing as it peered into the carriage, staring right at him…

A ghoul shrieked in the tunnel, and tall, misshapen shadows began surging past the windows as though in pursuit of something further down the tunnel. _Or someone._

The ghoul disappeared from the doorway with a growl, its feet slapping the concrete as it followed its brethren.

Holding his breath, M.J. waited, watching as the last of the ghoul’s shadows lurched from sight. The cries of the abominations gradually faded away, leaving him alone in an oppressive silence.


End file.
